


Moving in a Straight Line

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> There’s Rose, and the companions that come before Rose and the companions that come after Rose.</i> Kind of reunion-ficcy. Sort of maybe. We’ll call it fluffy angst. Flangst!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving in a Straight Line

He tries to put them into neat categories. He thinks: _Susan. Sarah Jane. Romana. Granddaughter. Friend. Best friend._

And then there’s Rose. There’s Rose, and the companions that come before Rose and the companions that come after Rose.

He shoves Martha’s cell phone into a pocket, close enough not to feel guilty, deep enough so he won’t hear it ring.

The TARDIS is quiet again. Like she was in those months after the Time War. Like after saying goodbye to Rose in Norway.

He takes her to the Time Vortex and tells himself she needs the rest more than he does.

***

He wonders when saving the universe became a matter of following a simple outline and checking things off as he goes along. Mock enemy. Run. Come up with genius plan. Deliver intimidating “I’ll give you one last chance” speech. Save world. Run again.

It’s like clockwork, really.

Sometimes the TARDIS tries to take him to new places; give him a challenge.

But on his own, it is just places. It’s just rocks and grasses and suns inhabiting the universe billions of times over. Just people living out their boring no-such-thing-as-ordinary lives.

It’s times like that he most wishes for Rose. He wishes for chips and laughter and sticky fingers entwined with his.

It’s a bad idea for him to be alone. All gaping holes of loneliness and stupid impulses. How long before he goes seeking danger for fun? Wasting another regeneration (getting to the end now—maybe he’s not quite as eternal as he’d like to believe).

He knows he should go looking for another companion.

He visits Jack instead.

***

Sometimes he’s glad for Jack. (Jack. Jack is the Face of Boe. Impossible, that one.) Oh, not in an entirely _nice_ way. Jack is the one thing in the universe who will live longer than he will. Long after he’s used up his last regeneration, Jack will still live on. For billions and billions of years.

But Jack buys him beer and gives him someone to talk to, and it seems easier than finding a new companion.

Jack isn’t afraid to bring Rose up (not like Martha was). Sometimes he’s grateful, but mostly he’s not. Mostly it’s because Jack asks questions he doesn’t want to answer.

“Rose didn’t end up like me.” Jack’s tone is mild, but his eyes are serious.

“No,” he says. “I told you, I took that power out of her.”

He takes a sip of beer and it tastes like someone’s pee, all warm and flat. Makes him feel light-headed and like his feet can’t feel the ground.

Jack’s smile is more of an accusation. “You couldn’t have extended the favour?”

“It killed me, Jack,” he says heavily and he thinks about kissing Rose. Dying for Rose. Oh, he’d do it again. A thousand times over.

“Of course,” Jack says. “Of course you chose her.”

He looks away and fiddles with his beer, suddenly wishing he hadn’t stopped back on earth, hadn’t been this desperate for company.

“But what if you hadn’t?” Jack continues. “What if she ended up like me?”

He can’t answer. He sips his beer and wishes he’d thought to order chips.

Jack sits back, nodding. “That’s what I thought.” He softens his voice. “Drives you crazy, doesn’t it? Thinking about her out there. You can’t see her. You’re not even allowed to know how she’s getting on.”

“Yes,” he says shortly. And then, “She’s doing brilliant. Fantastic. She….” He stops because he doesn’t know. _He doesn’t know_. And he knows everything.

Jack hears the desperation in his tone because his eyes go all dark like he’d like to jump him and shag him right there on the bloody table. He’s almost tempted. _Him_. Tempted. It’s just…it’s been a very— _very_ —long time.

Besides, Jack wouldn’t read into it. He wouldn’t think about mortgages and Christmas dinners and forevers.

Mind you, he’d been prepared to toss all that in for Rose, anyway, hadn’t he? Not that he’d ever shagged Rose. (He’d thought about shagging Rose.) He thinks he really should’ve. In the TARDIS. Against the console. In the pool. On the floor.

He thinks about kissing Rose, of lips mashing together, tongues pushing—licking. Touching. Holding on afterwards.

He really shouldn’t think about “shagging” and “Rose” in the same sentence. Sex and lust and longing—it’s human, it is _so_ human.

It’s not like him.

He swallows hard because his eyes burn. He gets like this when he’s alone too long.

Jack doesn’t shag him, but he does hug him, an unreserved, gentle hug. Like anything more might break him.

***

He parks the TARDIS in London for a week. To stop an invasion. To make repairs. He can’t quite remember. One of the two, most definitely.

He only walks by the Powell Estates once. (Three times.)

When he comes back, he wonders if he’s well and truly mad (no drums yet) because he finds Donna. In the kitchen. Eating fruit loops.

“Door was open,” she says, munching with her mouth open.

“Ah.” He frowns. “I should really think about looking into that, actually.”

She shrugs and goes back to the cereal.

“God, you look awful,” she says after studying him. “What happened? Someone throw you off a bridge?”

“Thanks.”

“No, _really_ ,” Donna says, narrowing her eyes. “All bony and pale… have you ever thought of going out into the sun? It’s this thing we have, yeah, sits right up there? Big yellow thing in the sky?”

“Donna,” he says, and her name is more of a sigh. “What are you doing here?”

She looks surprised by the question. “Well, I was… bored.”

“Bored?” he says.

She shrugs. “Went traveling for a bit. Saw France and Germany. Didn’t really understand anything. Then I tried to go to America, but I was hung over and missed my flight.”

“I see.”

“I’m not working,” Donna says, slouching down in her seat. “I can’t pay my rent so I had to move back in with my parents. Do you know what it’s like to live with your parents at my age? They keep asking me what I did, like it was my fault Lance turned into a self-centered bastard. Said I drove him away. _I drove him away_? He was poisoning me!”

Donna finishes with a huffy sigh and then sits back, folding her arms across her chest and staring at him pitifully.

The Doctor scratches the back of his neck and then says, “Well, if it’s so terrible, why don’t you come along?”

Donna shoves another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “Galonvhere?”

“With me,” he says. He tries to ignore the exhaustion in his voice. He points up to the ceiling. “In the TARDIS. With me.”

She considers. “Do you have a swimming pool?”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

She swallows. “Okay, then.”

***

Something is most definitely, quite positively, not entirely right. He scans the marketplace, but Donna’s loud cooing breaks his concentration.

“Can I buy one?”

He barely looks over. “No.”

“Why not?”

This time he _does_ look over. Donna is crouched down in front of a furry animal, a look of unabashed love on her face.

“Because it makes… a mess,” he says. “Besides, these early prototypes are unstable. It’ll take them another years to properly mix cats and dogs.”

Donna frowns. “Do you always have to ruin—yes, hello!” she croons. “Hello, there. Yes, you are a pretty girl, yes you are!”

“I… _Donna_ —” she glances up at him, and the only thing he can manage is a piteous, “Stop it. You’re just encouraging it.”

Donna scratches the ears of the cat-dog hybrid before answering. “I think it’d be good for you to have this thing onboard.”

“You are kidding, aren’t you?”

Donna rolls her eyes. “You’re _depressed_. I’ve seen the signs before. I’ve read on the Internet that pets can be good for old people. They give you… companionship and stuff. And _you’re_ really old, aren’t you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he manages. “I feel loads better.”

Donna smiles smugly. “I’m right, aren’t I? If we get one of these things on the TARDIS, you’ll _have_ to cheer up—”

“For the last time,” he grits out. “You _can’t_ go skinny dipping in the pool.” She opens her mouth to protest. “The TARDIS doesn’t like it!”

Donna narrows her eyes. “Well, I still think it would be nice.”

He turns his head to hide his smile—if Donna had it her way, they’d have to open a menagerie.

That’s when he sees her. Just like that. Right in the middle of a market on the corner of No and Where, five hundred years into her future.

The edges of his vision darken and everything stops. Feet—legs—even his tongue.

It can’t be.

Quickly, he goes through all the possibilities. No, he never took Rose to this market, and he would remember if he had. He remembers all the places he took Rose. It can’t be a relative or a descendent or a clone because she’s stuck in a parallel world. (Was stuck in a parallel world.)

He sucks in a breath, the pieces falling into place. This is a future version of Rose Tyler, then. A Rose Tyler _not_ stuck in a parallel world, not trapped, not… without him.

He closes his eyes, and yes, there it is. He can’t believe he didn’t sense it earlier. It’s the unmistakable sense of two Time Lords in one place, of a sharp tingle on the back of his neck that warns meeting a future version of himself could cause a paradox.

“Doctor?”

Donna sounds alarmed and she tugs at his arm, grip surprisingly strong. He keeps his eyes closed. The safe thing to do would be to turn around, to leave this place before she sees him.

He opens his eyes.

He can pinpoint the _exact_ moment she recognizes him. She straightens, eyes widening, teeth biting down on her bottom lip. She stares, gaze almost desperate, eyes searching his face. He tries to smile, but he feels clumsy. He can only hold her eyes.

“You’d tell me if you were going mental, right?” Donna says, turning around to peer into his eyes. “Anybody home? Hello?”

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “Fine—I…”

Donna releases him and mutters, “Okay, then, Crankypants. I don’t even know why I bother.”

“I’ll be right back,” he says. He doesn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, he breaks into a run. Rose is smiling by the time he reaches her, tears gathering in her eyes.

She wipes her cheeks and manages, “Hello.” Then she swallows and says, “You really shouldn’t be here.”

He gives a broken laugh. “Really shouldn’t.”

“Could cause a paradox or a temporal flux or… I dunno… something really, really bad.”

“Yep,” he says cheerfully. “I’m willing to risk it, though. Just this once.”

Rose’s beam is so fierce, it looks like her face might break. The way her bottom lip trembles tells him that whenever he finds her again, he’s long since finished with this body.

“Come here,” he says.

She hiccups and then launches herself into his arms. He lifts her up and swings her around. She giggles, warm breath puffing against his ear. Her arms lock around his neck, so tightly he almost can’t breathe, but that’s fantastic—no, brilliant—it makes her real.

He’s hardly aware of what he’s mumbling. “I looked, Rose. I did. I swear I did. I tried everything, but I couldn’t break down those walls without destroying both our universes, I…”

She squeezes him tighter, burying her nose in his shoulder. “You find me in the end.”

“How?” he chokes out. “When? Rose—”

He sets her down and frames her face with both hands, staring, just staring. She mimics his movements, soft palms cradling his cheeks.

“How?” he says again.

“I can’t tell you,” she says. “You know I can’t.”

He releases her and then runs one hand through his hair, waiting for the world to stop spinning and make sense again. Rose. Here. Right here. On this planet. With some future version of himself.

“Can you tell me now?”

She smacks him on the shoulder and then takes a step back to study him. “God, look at you,” she says. “You’re so…”

He raises his eyebrows; silently amused that she’s made it so blatant that he has to go through a regeneration cycle before finding her again. That’s okay. He can live with that.

He wonders where the other him is—Rose’s Doctor, now. He feels an unexpected start of jealousy and fails to push it entirely away. Blimey, multiple incarnations lead to puzzling relationship dynamics.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Rose says and her voice breaks on the last word.

Not _so_ jealous, then.

Without thinking, he leans down to kiss her. It’s messy and uncoordinated and their noses get in the way. He can taste the salt from her tears, but she’s smiling against his mouth, arms tightening around his neck.

He sets her down and blurts, “Am I ginger, at least?”

Rose stares at him and then bursts out laughing, “I’m not telling you.”

“Oh, come on—just a hint? A clue? Just… just… blink your eyes or—”

“Doctor,” she says, voice firm.

“Oh, all right,” he says. “Don’t risk a paradox.”

Rose smiles, but he can sense some hesitation behind it. She tilts her head back to meet his eyes, “You are being careful, aren’t you? You seem… different.”

He can’t quite meet her eyes. “Of course I am.”

She blows out a breath. “The other you, he said you’re getting reckless. Taking stupid risks.”

His mouth bobs open. “Hang on, how did you…” he glances around suspiciously—taking in the image of four cat-dog progenies crawling on Donna—before turning back to Rose. “Did he… he set this up, didn’t he?”

“ _He_ has a memory of _this_ ,” says Rose. “Cause he’s _you_ , you big stupid lump of a—”

“Well, he should stay out of my—our—his—business!” he yelps.

Rose rolls her eyes, and then says firmly, “Well, stop it. Whatever you’re doing,” she says. “Cause I want to see you again, yeah?”

“Rose—”

“Promise me, Doctor,” she says. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

She bites down on her bottom lip; stare piercing into him.

He nods. “I promise.”

She smiles, a smile of relief and hope. Then she wraps her arms around him and he buries his face in her neck, breathing heavily.

“Rose, I… I never got a chance to tell you,” he says. “I really…”

She squeezes him tighter and then releases him, taking a step back and trying to force a smile. “I should go.”

His throat burns, but he manages a hoarse, “Yeah.”

She reaches for his hand and entwines their fingers. “Say ‘hi’ to Donna for me, will you?”

He looks up at her. “How did you…?”

“Not exactly the most inconspicuous person you’ve ever traveled with.” Then she smiles. “I like her. We get together for drinks every other Sunday.” Rose clamps a hand to her mouth. “Oh, rubbish. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He laughs and releases her hand. “You should go.”

She takes a step back, biting down on her bottom lip. “I’ll see you soon, Doctor.”

A small part of him can’t shake the feeling that if he lets her go now, that’s it.

“Rose!” he says urgently. She freezes in the process of turning away, and he blurts out, “Rose Tyler, I love you.”

She stares at him for a moment, but then her eyes sparkle. “I love you, too,” she says softly. “So much.”

They stare at each other for a long moment and then Rose gestures behind her. “I’ve really gotta go, Doctor.”

He doesn’t trust his voice, so he nods. He tries to follow her with his eyes, but it’s not long before she gets lost in the crowd.

***

He’s almost smiling when they walk back to the TARDIS. Donna has one of the cat-dog things draped across her shoulders, its long body wrapped around her neck.

“Snelly,” she says, scratching the animal behind one of its long ears. “That’s what I’ll call him.”

The Doctor snorts in amusement and shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing out over the horizon. He gets that itch in the back of his neck again—two Time Lords in one place—but it’s fading.

It could have been a dream.

Donna munches on an ice cream cone, holding it up every once in a while to give Snelly a bite.

“Bit of a snog and suddenly you’re all cheerful,” Donna says. “Sort of thought you weren’t… you know, into that sort of thing.”

The Doctor is only half-listening. “What thing?” He digs around in his pockets until he finds the TARDIS key.

“Oh, you know,” Donna says, waving a hand. “Sex and stuff.”

“What?” says the Doctor. He stops walking. “Why does everyone _always_ think that?”

“God, it’s been hours since we last stopped to eat,” Donna answers, completely unhelpfully. She pulls up beside him and turns her head to stare at him seriously. She swallows the last of her ice cream cone. “I’m famished. You better have something edible onboard that thing.”

“Is it the sideburns?” the Doctor continues. “The glasses? It’s the glasses, isn’t it? Mind you, it _has_ been a while, but that doesn’t mean I’m not _capable_ of having sex. In fact, it being me, it’s entirely reasonable to assume that I’d be quite brilliant at it.”

“What was it you tried to get me to eat my first night onboard?” Donna says. “Snails? Who the bleeding hell would ever think that was tasty? Is it an alien thing?”

“And it’s not like I’m _unattractive_! I have a spaceship! That’s hot, right?” The Doctor pauses. “Please never let me use that word again.”

Donna ignores him. “What do you suppose Snelly eats?”

The Doctor blinks at her. “What?”

She waves the pet in his face and he makes a face when tuffs of hair tickle his nose.

“We’ll find him something,” the Doctor says. “Just—just… just take it away from me, will you?”

Donna pulls Snelly back and loops it around her neck again. She’s quiet for about three seconds.

“You going to tell me who she was?” she says suddenly. She stops and turns to look at him, finding his eyes. He’s surprised by the uncharacteristic gentleness in her tone. “Or do you make it a habit of snogging strange girls in the middle of nowhere?”

“No and Where, actually,” the Doctor says. Donna narrows her eyes at him and he rushes to explain, “My life doesn’t always happen in a straight line. The past—future, it doesn’t mean the same thing to me, Donna. Sometimes I come across things that haven’t happened yet.”

Donna stares at him like he’s mental. Snelly yawns widely.

“Rose,” he finally says, her name coming out like more of a sigh. “That was Rose. A Rose from the future—my future.”

Donna’s eyebrows draw together and he can see her trying to work it out. “You find her again?”

“Yes,” he says. “One day.”

He stares at a point over her shoulder.

“Well, then—” She nudges him in the shoulder and then holds out a hand. “Time to get going, what do you think? I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”

He manages to smile for her and reaches out to take her hand. Her fingers are sticky from the ice cream and covered with god-knows-what from petting Snelly. He tells himself that he doesn’t mind.

“Do we _have_ any horses onboard?” Donna asks.

“No!” he says. “And even if I _did_ , you’re not eating one.”

Donna humphs and pushes the door open. “Ruin all my fun.”  



End file.
